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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27652772">Her First Battle, Her Finished Business</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/abyss1826/pseuds/abyss1826'>abyss1826</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Deidre Hunt [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Final Fantasy XIV</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Character Study, Female Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Final Fantasy XIV: A Realm Reborn, Gen, Injury, Named Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Permanent Injury, White Mage Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 20:48:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,602</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27652772</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/abyss1826/pseuds/abyss1826</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Deidre Hunt is the newest member of the Scions. She's not conversational, Thancred finds. He had hoped to see her break out of her shell on their assignment together, but it seems he's sent her to her death first.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Warrior of Light &amp; Thancred Waters</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Deidre Hunt [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2021945</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Her First Battle, Her Finished Business</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There had been an ambush. That was the only explanation; some few dead bodies at the meeting place, even more missing, the young woman he was supposed to be responsible for among them. Thancred cursed himself as he and another troop of the Immortal Flames broke through into the beast men's camp. Espionage and intelligence were his forte. He should have known there would be a counter attack. He shouldn't have left her. But he did, and it had been her death sentence.</p><p>Ifrit's roars shook through the cliffs, the ambient fire aether amplified to smothering. Deidre's echo meant she wouldn't be tempered. That just meant the Amal'ja had no reason to keep her alive. Thancred had little hope of getting to her before they realized that. It had already been nearly a bell since the Primal was summoned. If he accepted the inevitable now then…</p><p>What, really?</p><p>He had failed her. He had failed her and everyone else in her party who were either dead or tempered. Their blood was on his hands.</p><p>When they got through to the summoning chamber the sight caught him off guard. A ring of fire encircled Ifrit and the lone conjuror, still standing. She was still standing. But they had to deal with everyone else in the room before Thancred could get to her. He stole a look for one moment longer, enough to see the eikon begin to reform. </p><p>"Aye! Ye cheaten' fuck!" Deidre hollered, possibly the third thing he'd ever heard her say, and hopefully not the last. He saw an Amal'ja fall into the wall of flames and vaporize on contact. Thancred struck running through the barrier off of the single-item list of ways in which he could go to Deidre's aid. He pulled his dagger from the back of the last of the guards and watched, waiting for some chance opening he wasn't sure would exist. </p><p>The young woman was frankly quite terrifying; and, to his horror, unarmed. Using one's own body as a foci was possible, but ill-advised and in some practices even forbidden. Watching Deidre cast, it became clear to him why. The sleeves of her robes had torn away, and as she lifted mounds of earth into her whirlwind Thancred could see the raw aether forming along her arms, paths of light burning through her skin to coalesce into a spell at her palms. In a bout of helpless curiosity he examined the aether to find that she was pulling the ambient into herself in a way that was not, in his experience at least, a normal conjury technique.</p><p>The nail Ifrit erected shattered under the force of the rock-filled vortex, it's shards sucked up and used against their creator to impale him alongside the stones and boulders. Craters and walls of the conjurors own making littered the the battlefield, and Deidre dove behind one of the later to avoid a final blast of fire from the eikon's maw.</p><p>With that last effort, Ifrit was defeated. The scattered earth sunk back to its resting place. The wind died down. The conjuror collapsed. Thancred ran to her. She was laid out on her back. He dropped to his knees and took her pulse. It was there, and frantic. Her blue eyes, grayer seeming with the soot on her pale skin, fluttered open. </p><p>"Deidre?! Are you alright?" He asked, sitting her upright. She looked at him for a moment, breathing heavily.</p><p>"Uh…" her eyes lost focus, and she squeezed them shut. "No." She lay back down. "Need a momen'."</p><p>"Are you injured?" </p><p>"Healed m'self."</p><p>Thancred began to examine her regardless. When he got a look at her arms he cursed. White welt like marks were growing in the veined paths the aether had taken, visible and thickening from her inner elbows down to her wrists. He took one of her hands in his and examined the twisted, damaged skin of her palm. These were not wounds that could be dressed. He gently pressed his thumb into her palm.</p><p>"Tell me if it hurts," he stated, slowly increasing the pressure.</p><p>"If what hurts?" She opened her eyes, looking down at the hand he was holding in surprise. She pursed her lips. His heart sank. "Well tha' ain't no good," she muttered.</p><p>"Can you feel it?" She shook her head. "We'll… we'll see if Y'shtola or Urianger can do anything."</p><p>"Wouldn't hope too hard on my account." He let go, and she sat up again.</p><p>"Can you stand?" She shrugged, and tried it. She swayed for a moment, so he took her arm over his shoulders. She was only an ilm or two shorter than him, fairly average height for a midlander woman. She didn't protest. "I'm sorry Deidre. I should have been there." She huffed.</p><p>"Why, s'you could en'up like them?" She asked as they passed her tempered party members. "Don' think th'Scions'd be too pleased 'bout that."</p><p>"You sound like Minfilia already," he remarked.</p><p>"Have 'nough experience sounden' like m'mother," she muttered bitterly.</p><p>"Don't want to add our dear Antecedent to that list?"</p><p>"No." He chuckled lightly.</p><p>"To each their own role, I suppose." The young woman nodded, but said nothing. "Have you the energy for a teleportation spell?" She shook her head. "I'll get a cart when we reach Camp Dry Bone then. The sooner you get your hands looked at the better, I can return here myself."</p><p>When they reached the chocobo he had borrowed he noted a small smile as she ran her fingers, and then the back of her hand, through its feathers. The first one he'd seen.</p><p>"You like chocobos?" She nodded, and then cleared her throat.</p><p>"Papa's got a couple big'uns f'th'plow." Thancred hummed thoughtfully. That was the only personal information she had ever offered up, despite their time together. He gave her his water canteen to drink from while he adjusted the saddle to more easily sit the two of them.</p><p>"All set," he stated, looking over to find that the chocobo was attempting to preen the soot from Deidre's blonde hair. Her grin was infectious, but Thancred couldn't help but notice how much younger it made her look.</p><p> </p><p>The nap she took on his shoulder during the ride back to Vesper Bay was well earned. If it were not for the injury Thancred would have felt bad having to wake her from it. Urianger examined her hands in the Solar while Thancred informed Minfilia of the situation. When they were finished the Elezen's face was grim. She had sustained nerve damage where the aether had created channels in her body. It was not something any of the healing arts were capable of repairing. Deidre's reaction was her usual silence as Urianger and Minfilia offered their condolences and bid her to take a room to rest in. Thancred wished he could sit with her, in case her emotional response was simply delayed, however, he needed to return to Camp Dry Bone.</p><p>But he would be back. He would check on her soon enough.</p><p> </p><p>The next time Thancred saw her the air was acrid, and tears made lines down her soot streaked face. </p><p>"W'need't ge'out'a here," he heard past the ringing in his ears. He tried to sit up, but found he didn't have the strength. Deidre, somehow, did. </p><p>"Ugh, quit bein' s'heavy," she grunted, lugging him over her back. The absurdity of the demand shocked a short laugh out of him. She dragged them over to a black, beeping shape he made out to be a magitek reaper. "She's no chocobo bu' she's jus' as friendly," she said as it somehow crouched of its own accord. Deidre got him in it with more haste than care, but something new seemed to be reaching it's explosion point in the fires, and the Reaper took off as she was still clamoring into the seat with him.</p><p>He blinked, or he meant to; when he opened his eyes again he was laying in a cot somewhere. The Archons were around him. Minfilia was crying. He squeezed her hand with all the strength he could muster. When he opened his eyes again, they were gone. He thought himself alone until he heard fabric rustle beside him. The tent flap opened, and Deidre entered. He nearly mistook her for one of the Elder Seedseers younger siblings, with the robes she wore. She seemed surprised to see him awake. She seemed tired. She seemed older, again. </p><p>"Kan-E-Senna thinks ye'll r'cover," she said finally. She tucked what used to be bangs behind her ear. She wore leather gloves.</p><p>"Don' go letten' them ov'r work ye'gain, right?" She smiled, but it was tight-lipped. Her gaze was somewhere else. "You're back, so. M' done 'ere, now. Don' go lookin' too hard." </p><p>He couldn't find his voice. She put a thin parcel on the table next to him. She didn't say goodbye when she left, but Thancred knew that was what she meant.</p><p> </p><p>Five days later Thancred finally had the chance to open what she had left him. It was a new pair of daggers, to replace the one Lahabrea had discarded. They were excellently made, of superior quality, even. The balance was perfect. Their leather sheaths shared the same level of craftsmanship. The same crafter, as well, he found when he spotted the makers mark. Stamped into the leather and the round pommels were the letters D.D.H within a thin circle, the duplicate initials half overlapped. Thancred put them back on his night stand, and thought of how she had said goodbye.</p><p>He wasn't going to get to thank her.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Please comment! I have a lot of one shoots in mind, and I plan to post them in chronological order! If you enjoy this and want to see the Coerthas one-shot coming up, subscribe to the series for updates!<br/>I can be reached at smallest-turtle on tumblr for further shenanigans &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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